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D ominic resisted the urge to wallop his cousin on the head, but he was still very upset at the man when he had returned home. Frederick was sneaking around town to do some spying, which gave Nic time to think…and fall asleep.

This morning he awoke feeling slightly better, but still annoyed, nonetheless.

Panic was another emotion swimming through him right now, which he didn’t like at all.

A few times during the evening, Tabitha had acted as if she knew his true identity.

Yet she didn’t say anything. The woman he knew from six months ago would have confronted him immediately.

Perhaps this was what confused him more than anything.

Nic waited at the breakfast table for Frederick to awaken. Their discussion could not be put off a moment longer. By the creaks from the ceiling, Nic guessed that Frederick was up.

Drumming his fingers on the table, he sipped his coffee as he silently grumbled for something stronger to drink.

But even Lord Hawthorne didn’t drink spirits this early in the morning.

If only he was back home, he’d be doing so many things differently.

This country life was definitely not doing anything for Nic’s sanity.

He turned and peered out the window. The cliffs and seaside provided a lovely view.

As he watched the gentle waves splashing against some large boulders, peace settled inside of him.

He wouldn’t mind this kind of relaxation every morning instead of the hustle and bustle of York and Mayfair, where two of his townhouses were located.

The longer he stared, the more his vision became distorted, and images popped into his head whether he wanted them there or not.

Tabitha’s lovely face became clearer, and her amazing blue eyes gleamed with happiness.

He could still hear her light laughter and especially the angelic ring of her voice as she sang with him.

Memories of their verbal swordplay from six months ago came to mind.

She had such a quick wit that kept him on his toes.

Not often did he meet servants like Tabitha, or even ladies like her.

Surprisingly, he had looked forward to seeing her again just so he could hear what would come out of her mouth next.

And speaking of mouths…

Groaning, Nic tore his attention away from the window. He rested his elbow on the table and rubbed his forehead. The memory of her kiss was definitely powerful.

“Is this not a beautiful morning?”

Frederick’s chipper voice brought Nic out of his thoughts. He snapped his head up and glared at his cousin. “Not really, no.”

Frederick arched an eyebrow. “No? And why not? Look outside. The sun is shining, the gentle wind—”

“Frederick, please quit prattling on like a woman and sit down. There is a matter of great importance that we need to discuss.”

Huffing, Frederick took a chair and plopped down. “All you had to do was ask. You didn’t have to be uncouth about it.”

“Then forgive me for being so short with you. I had a most disturbing evening, and this morning isn’t any better.”

Frederick sat forward, resting his arms on the edge of the table. “What happened at Mrs. Burls’ birthday social?”

“Well, for now I won’t yell at you for giving the old woman a music box with her favorite song that you knew she would want you to sing to her, so I’ll save that until another time. However”—Nic folded his arms and leaned back in his chair—“there are bigger problems afoot here.”

“Does someone suspect you are not the clergyman?”

“No one from the community. I did an excellent job acting like a preacher.” He took a deep breath. “However, do you recall the fiasco I told you about with Tristan Worthington and Diana Hollingsworth?”

“Of course I do. The murders were the talk of England.”

“Then you recall me telling you about Diana’s maid, Tabitha?”

A grin stretched across Frederick’s mouth. “How could I forget about her? She made you behave badly, if memory serves.”

Nic grimaced. “Indeed, I did not act like a gentleman, and my accusations were out of line.”

“Whatever happened to the woman?”

“I’ll tell you what happened.” Nic pushed away from the table and stood. “She’s here visiting her great-aunt, Clara Burls!”

“Oh dear,” Frederick whispered. “That cannot be good.”

“It’s not. Especially now when Lord Hawthorne needs to stay hidden.” Nic waved his hands in the air as he talked. “And what’s worse is that I suspect she knows.”

“No.” Frederick jumped to his feet. “How could she? You look like me.”

“We might look alike, but I still have the qualities that make me the lovable, charming rogue I’ve always been.”

Frederick rolled his eyes. “If you say so.”

Grumbling, Nic marched to his cousin and stopped inches in front of him. Nic’s chest heaved with the angry breaths he took, and he clenched his hands into fists. “Then if I don’t have those qualities, how else did Tabitha become suspicious?”

“Are you certain she suspects you are Lord Hawthorne?”

Nic held his breath for a moment as his mind went back over what had happened last night. “I…don’t know. At times she acted like she thought it was me, and other times she didn’t.”

“All right.” Frederick raised his hands in surrender. “Let’s think this over clearly, before we jump to conclusions. After all, you of all people know the folly of doing that. Especially with that particular woman.”

Nic scowled and nodded. “You don’t have to remind me.”

“Because Tabitha didn’t actually confront you about the disguise, there might be a possibility that she doubts her own thoughts.” Frederick moved away from Nic and paced the floor. “And if she doubts her thoughts, then we need to make certain she continues to do so.”

“Go on.” Nic nodded, hoping his cousin would say something he didn’t already know.

“What you need to do”—Frederick stopped near Nic, pointing to his chest—“is to reassure her that your cousin, Lord Hawthorne, has returned home. While you’re doing this, you should try to repair the damages that your lovable, charming, roguish self has done to the poor girl.”

Nic fisted his hands again. “Are you done insulting me?”

“I’m not insulting you, dear cousin. I’m just using your words.” Frederick lifted his chin stubbornly.

Growling, Nic raked his fingers through his hair and moved away from his cousin before he followed his instincts and slugged him in the face.

He mulled over what Frederick had suggested.

If Nic could convince her that he was indeed the clergyman, there might be a chance that he could persuade her to forgive Lord Hawthorne.

Perhaps he’d even try to soften her heart toward him…

Lord Hawthorne, that was. If he could accomplish this, Tabitha would be more obliged to talk to him and mayhap even forgive him.

He took in a deep, cleansing breath, releasing his anger and doubt.

His hopes that this may indeed be the very thing to do lifted.

His future looked slightly brighter. At least he might have this heavy burden of guilt that had been resting on his shoulders lifted, and he’d finally feel good about the whole situation.

“Frederick, I believe you’re right.” Nic met his cousin’s stare and nodded. “Now, let’s plan a way that the good clergyman Mr. Woodland can soften Miss Tabitha’s heart quickly.”

*

North Devon cliffs were absolutely spectacular.

Many paths weaved through the slopes toward the cliffs.

Some were steeper than others and very rocky.

Sweet William flowers assisted the grass in decorating the slopes.

At certain points on the cliffs, small waterfalls streamed foamy water down their thick green sides.

This afternoon the ocean was clear and bluer than Tabitha had ever imagined.

She stopped along one of the smaller cliffs and inhaled the fresh, salty air.

Closing her eyes, she smiled and was content to hear the waves splashing against the rocks below, as birds squawked overhead in the cloudless sky.

Since she was sixteen years old, she hadn’t found a chance to take a leisurely stroll anywhere.

She hadn’t done anything leisurely, not until she met her half-brother, Tristan Worthington, and confessed the secret she’d been holding for several years—that she was his illegitimate sister.

She had worried that her half-brothers Trevor, Tristan, and Trey might hate her because their father had cheated on their mother.

Any lord in the realm would have turned up his nose at such a scandalous situation.

But not the Worthington brothers. They were unlike anyone she’d ever met.

They were so kind and so forgiving, and they welcomed her into their family with open arms. Their mother was even pleasant to Tabitha—after getting over the initial shock of it all, of course.

Trevor, the eldest, had set her up a trust fund.

She explained he didn’t need to do that, but he pushed the issue until she relented.

Her brothers told her that they didn’t want her to ever be a servant again.

Considering she’d been a maid all of her life, it was very hard to sit back and allow someone else to do the cooking and cleaning for her.

She glanced down at her day dress and plucked at the sides of her green floral-print skirt.

The weather was a little chilly, so she’d worn her forest-green waist jacket with matching gloves.

Her bonnet was the same floral print as her dress.

Dressing this way still seemed foreign to her.

She felt as if she should be wearing the normal gray uniform with a white apron around her waist, as what was required while working for Lord Elliot.